Dear Diary,

Y'know, every now and then I do something, and for I don't know how long I sit there staring at myself. Like, almost as if I'd stepped outside of time to just look at myself and go 'what the fuck? who did that? Did I do that?' in confused befuddlement. I mean, metaphorically. Given that she never fails to show up when I actually step outside of Time for any reason, I'm sure if I actually did that Domnu would show up and ask me why I was staring at myself.

It's so weird. Growing up. Like, not just the whole 'holy shit, I'm doing something I wouldn't have done a year ago', although that's part of it. Another part would be the whole 'fuck, I'm now staring at myself in a kind of impressed awe at how I failed to fuck things up rather than horrified awe at how badly I managed to fuck them up'. I guess I did that last bit a lot back at Eastside. Sitting there alone in my room, in my mom's empty house, wondering why I was alone in my room when I had a perfectly functioning vajayjay to lure in the wide variety of penis havers who might attempt to increase my dopamine count. Only to realize that I had, in fact, apparently annoyed every such penis haver in anything like my own age bracket in an entire city of seventy thousand odd souls.

At which point I generally would shrug and head to the Battleship Museum to see how far I could push things with the staff there. Which, now that I realize I have in fact had sex with Saffron and Marie in multiple locations on a fully functional replica of the battleship in question, makes me simultaneously annoyed at and grateful for the restraint of those old dudes. Annoyed, because the me from back then definitely needed those dopamine hits to keep her world from slipping ever further into chronic depression. Grateful, because I was thirteen the first time I did that, and I'm not sure I really would have been in a good place if I'd run across a septuagenarian willing to get busy with a thirteen year old. Then again, I was in a shitty enough place in general that years later when I got shot in the head, it was more of a 'yeah, this tracks as my last next step' rather than seeming like a tragedy.

But here's the thing. I can look at who I was back then and think 'oh, shit, that poor kid, I wish I could scoop her up and take care of her' rather than 'dumb bitch should have flashed some nips rather than just cleavage and gone for the crotch rather than shoulder if she really wanted to get laid' the way I did two years ago. I can look at the me a year ago and think 'holy shit, she was one big ball of trauma, I hope she finds some help with that'. Which I guess I kinda did. My wife. My adopted parents. My fiancé, who used to be my Concubine, and my other Concubine. Which in and of itself is a hell of a phrase to think with my own brain. Y'know, the 'I have a Concubine' thing. I'd probably feel a lot worse about it, what with me being a Deity focused on Agency, if she hadn't more or less insisted on the Title as much as Murder Mittens had. Fuck, when Saffron mentioned Siobhan's duties expanding by fifty percent when we wifed Marie, she looked like I think I would have looked if someone told me that I would be required to play Call of Duty fifty percent more than I already did if I wanted to graduate High School. Like internally she was shouting 'shut up, shut up, shut up, don't jinx it' or some similar shit.

I think some of it has to do with the time I spent as 'Past Me'. Because while I didn't remember any of the shit that had happened, it had still happened. I'd moved on, emotionally. But I didn't have any of the new psychological traumas I'd picked up, so I could just kinda vibe and learn to feel like the new me, rather than constantly thinking about the old me. Like I was just kinda doing. Which I guess is another part of Growing Up that I haven't done yet; Growing Up to the point where I'm not constantly amazed at how much I've grown up.

In this case, the 'omigod I did a mature thing' moment was when I got home, after a day of trying to get good with Lullaby, not knowing whether I had or I'd just been taking advantage of Sarah's natural tendency to cat nap, I wound up grumpy because of my missing Marshall. Okay, he's not technically mine. Yet. Despite plans which have been laid. But he's still my mentor in the ways of Mortal ass kickery, not to mention how to be a certified ass kicker without being a giant douchebag. So I'm still gonna call him my Marshall. But I sat there eating dinner with a kind of booger look that I'm sure had the women walking on eggshells, what with my scars making my face look a little evil even when I'm literally orgasmic. Then I had that moment that had me thinking afterward 'holy shit, I've Grown Up', and didn't sit there brooding.

"Hey, Kitten?"

"Yes, love?"

I waved her over, and she hopped over to my lap. "Do you mind if I ask you potentially work related questions here at home?"

She actually stopped and thought about it for a moment before nodding and replying, "if you'd have just asked, I might be upset, but since you went to the trouble of asking permission beforehand, I can't see where I will be. Just know that if it's something complex or tiresome, I might ask you to wait on a detailed answer." She smirked and leaned close to my ear. "Or bribe me."

I whispered back, "with sweets or sex?"

"Yes."

I laughed at that, then said, quiet enough that it wouldn't carry and worry anyone else, "what's up with the Marshall?"

She paused for a long moment, successfully distracting me with some earlobe nibbling before quietly replying, "Some of the Eastern districts of New Amsterdam have reported some issues along our border with Saint Boltophsburg."

My mind immediately jumped back to the thoughts I'd had before about his last disappearance, and how that wound up starting the slippery slope stopped by squished Saffron and scarred me. "Ah, shit."

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She surprised me at that point by snickering in my ear. "I'm sorry to have left you out of the loop on this, love. But we're sending the Marshall for the same reason we sent Karen."

"Because sending me is sending an invasion force?"

"Exactly." I sighed, acknowledging her point, and she continued. "Not to worry. Potami is with him, along with six full Units of Dragonslayers. And he's going aboard the Seeking Tentacle."

I sighed. "Another one?"

"Until we have the ability to lay down proper steel hulls, preferably with Cold Iron laced steel armored belts, the Tentacle class is in fact the most advanced class of ships in the Atlantic. Possibly in the entire world."

"Possibly?"

She shrugged again. "I'm certain she's more advanced than anything in the Mediterranean and the North Atlantic, and none of the South Atlantic powers have ever put a great deal of stock in proper oceangoing vessels. They tend toward coastal and riverine craft. But I..." She smirked at me as she trailed off. "I suppose I'm maturing. I no longer need to posture and claim that my ships are the best when I'm not certain they are. It's possible some nation in Eastern Asia has finer ships than ours. Well, finer than the ones we can make. Which brings me to the final point where this interaction ought differ from that of a year ago." I tilted my head, and her grin got absolutely panty-wetting. In both senses of the word. "Should the powers that be in Saint Boltophsburg foolishly decide to test the Alliance's martial prowess? There is no part of that City more than twenty miles from the coast, and I positively dare them to try and assault the Black Dragon with her Captain aboard."

The tension drained out of my shoulders. Yeah, stuff could still go to shit, and I half expected it to, but there's a shit ton of difference between being an untried Cadet with nothing but rage and power for backup and being the single most potent military force in Atlantis with my beautiful Black Dragon ready and waiting to explain people into itty bitty pieces why 'military solutions' were stupid when dealing with our Alliance. "Thanks, Kitten."

"De nada, Goof. Now, my bribes?"

"Hey, no!" She got that mulish pouty look, and I followed my initial outburst with, "bribes are beforehand. These are rewards. Mittens? Do we have pie?"

Sadly Marie shook her head, but she had an impish gleam in her eye when she said, "Cream."

I wondered how whipped cream could be a proper dessert by itself, then thought about cream pies, then was thinking about maybe seeing if we could get an early start on the baby making, when a small formation of Maries came out of her Kitchen bearing bowls that didn't quite steam. Turns out that Marie knows how to make Ice Cream, and the top of the Bore is cold enough this time of year to freeze ice, and so we wound up with bowls of blueberry ice cream with some kind of crushed mixed nuts and steaming warm caramel over top of it all. Holy crap my wife to be is the wifiest of wifes ever to wife, and after feeding our Concubine while I did the same to Saffron, she whisked the three of us off to demonstrate her other wifey skills. The Bedroom ones. None of us needed a new outfit for that.

Still kinda world rocked by self-awareness revelations, ice cream, and Marie on a Mission in the morning when I realized that my son was, in fact, making us new outfits specifically for that. Once I had everybody situated for the day, including one of me playing with the kids, one playing seat cushion for Saffron, one shooting the shit with Grandma where Siobhan had me right there if she needed me, and one of me doing laundry with Marie, I hopped over to his Workshop. "Son, you around?"

He popped up from behind me, although I think I disappointed him when I just hugged him instead of jumping. "Did you need something, Mother?"

"Busy?"

He shrugged. "Making progress with the Hole Spawn, finally."

I think I turned up the Proud Mom without really thinking about it. "Really? That's so cool! Anything you want to show off yet?"

He smiled and shook his head. "Not as of yet. Has my dear sister added to her stables yet?"

I rolled my eyes. "Not yet, thank fuck. Uh, I did have a couple requests, if you have some time?" He nodded and waved one hand. I let him see me blush as I made my first request and told him who and what I wanted it for, and got rewarded with something like a genuine smile. I'm not sure if it was at seeing me blush or asking him directly for a piece of S&M gear for use on his Mom, but either way he seemed genuinely amused, which wasn't common when there weren't sentient beings turned into eternally tortured knickknacks.

"Anything else?"

"Yeah. You know that enchantment you put on the rings?" He nodded. "Could you do the same thing on a crown? Specifically the crown of Norfolk?"

He thought for a moment, then asked, "how long will you be wearing it?"

I shrugged. "Not long. One, maybe a couple public appearances before I abdicate in favor of Olga."

He sighed, then nodded. "I make no promises about how well it suits her."

I smiled at him. "Thanks, son. I knew I could count on you."

One goodbye hug later, I stepped to Gregor's old throne room in Norfolk. Wound up sitting in the throne itself, because the floor was covered in Jotnar. Like, only the two of them, Olga and her dad, but they are not small Human-Adjacent people, as I've mentioned before. They were also mostly asleep. Letting Skasn stay that way, i hopped over next to Olga's ear and said, "Olga? Mind talking for just a second?"

She turned her head, blinked her eyes, and reached up from where she'd been holding a Svart shaped Svart between her bigger-than-him bosoms. "Majesty?" she muttered.

"Yeah. Just wanted to touch base with you on that. Sorry about not coming down to abdicate sooner, but shit came up."

She was obviously too sleepy to hide her displeasure at waiting, but fuck it, I'd said I was gonna do this months ago, and it couldn't have been easy being 'Princess Olga' for this long with no Queen for her to Princess to. Also, I sure as fuck wouldn't want to piss me off by presuming and declaring myself Queen. "Go on?" she half growled.

"Yeah. I'm having a new crown made. My expense and everything. So as soon as it's done, you set a date, make sure all the important Jarls are there, and we do this thing."

She nodded, obviously still kinda sleepy. "Spring?"

"Spring. Sure." I shook my head as she snuggled back down to go back to sleep. Almost like she was hibernating or some shit. At that point I had another rush of brains to the head.

Dad? Do Jotnar hibernate?

His mental voice all lecture mode, he replied, It's not proper hibernation, but it might as well be. Any who live in places with seasons of plenty and seasons of want tend to gorge themselves a bit at the end of the former and mostly sleep through the latter. Given that they mostly live in the far north, where there is no sun in winter? It's as much a necessity as an affectation in some places.

Well, shit.

What troubles you now, Daughter?

Well, I'm your Daughter, so I'm a Jotnar, right?

Legally and in spirit, yes...

So why the fuck didn't anybody tell me hibernation was an option?